Having a lad about is a consuming piece of business. I have put him to work two or three hours each morning as his stamina permits. He is fascinated by the common Goiter as I once was & curious about the removal of digits & limbs. The subject of Coughing is another interest & anything to do with skin disease. He studies a rash as some look at a map of the world & its many Wonders. He now has access to my microscope & is keen to examine anything at all, including maggots found in a rotten log.
The sobering matter of Last Will & Testament will be properly finalized Monday next.
Twill be the fixing of a nasty thing back to a good thing.
He closed the journal. They were quiet, pondering.
‘We can’t finish it,’ he said. ‘Maybe another round before bedtime or first thing tomorrow, but we can’t make it through.’
‘I hate to leave it-what will become of all these lives opened to us?’
‘Would be good to have a paperback edition to tuck in your hamper.’
‘Without his journal,’ she said, ‘we wouldn’t have found the painting. Hats off to Fintan.’
‘How far away are you from starting to pack?’
‘Far, far away. Have you called Aengus?’
‘Blast,’ he said. ‘I forgot. First thing tomorrow. ’
‘How about now? He’ll be mowing verges tomorrow.’
‘I’ll go down to the kitchen. Have you seen his card?’
‘On the dresser with the cuff links you brought.’
But no cuffs to go with them-yet another item he’d left behind in Mitford.
‘What do you think will happen?’ she asked. ‘Do you think Liam would let Paddy be prosecuted? ’
‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t like thinking about it. ‘We’ve done all we can.’ He would be curious about fingerprints, if any.
‘I’m painting Evelyn tomorrow morning. If she’s able,’ she said, going off to the bathroom. ‘And I’d like to paint Anna and Liam before we go, but this doesn’t seem the best time.’
‘How is it?’ he called after her.
‘How is what?’
‘You know.’
‘Great,’ she said.
They had agreed not to use the a-word ever again.
He was edgy, scattered, as he dressed to go down to the phone. He could feel himself pulling away from Broughadoon like moss scraped from a log. It was discomfiting, the same way he’d felt when he left home to come here. He was no traveler; this would be his last jaunt for some while.
In the kitchen, he squinted at the various phone numbers on Aengus Malone’s card, and punched in the one not penciled out.
‘Hallo!’ A woman, irritable.
‘Aengus Malone, please.’
‘Who’s callin’ Aengus?’
‘Tim Kav’na from th’ States. He drove us to Lough Arrow some time ago.’
‘Aengus is out to ’is dance class.’
‘His dance class!’
‘Learnin’ th’ oul-style step dancin’ for th’ competition.’
‘Will you have him call me? It’s important.’
‘He’ll be in late.’
‘Will he be mowing tomorrow?’
‘Mowin’?’
‘The verges.’
‘He’s left off mowin’ verges,’ she said.
‘Well, then.’
‘I’ll take your number.’
No telling what time the call would come, disturbing the household. Call a taxi, he thought, or whatever people call around here.
‘Ah, but you’re in luck, now, here comes th’ poor devil lookin’ like he was flogged by a rooster. Aengus, it’s your customer from th’ States.’
‘Hallo!’
‘Aengus! Tim Kav’na here. You left your hat at Lough Arrow.’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Is it you, then, Rev’rend?’
‘It is. How are you?’
‘I’ve a ragin’ thirst, if ye must know; I’ve been dancin’ like a jackhammer for two bleedin’ hours.’
‘I hear there’s a competition.’
‘Aye, an’ I’m needin’ my hat for good luck.’
He gave Aengus date, time, and airline.
‘Strandhill, is it’
‘Dublin. We’re skipping Strandhill this go-round. We’ll see more of Ireland going down to Dublin!’
‘I’ll send me cousin, Albert.’
‘We can’t get th’ top dog?’
‘Tis th’ day of my competition; I’ll be nervous as any cat, an’ shinin’ me hard shoes.’
‘How will you make it without your hat?’
‘I’ll do as I’ve done these last weeks an’ ask help from above. Send me oul’ hat off with Albert.’
‘Will do. What time will he fetch us?’
‘Six-thirty A.M., sharp. He’ll load everything in, ye needn’t turn a hand. How’s th’ missus?’
‘Good, good. Sorry to miss you.’
‘Aye, an’ same here. I don’t suppose ye lift prayers for such as dancin’ competitions.’
‘May he make you able to do your best, Aengus.’
‘I thank ye for that, Rev’rend, an’ for your business with Malone Transport. Good luck to ye, an’ come again.’
He forgot to ask what the prize might be, or what work had come around since the mowing job.
He passed Bella coming downstairs with their dinner tray. She lowered her eyes.
‘Good evening Bella.’
No reply.
‘Bella dislikes me intensely,’ he told Cynthia. ‘I just passed her on the stair, she wouldn’t speak.’
‘It’s the collar, sweetheart. I think it causes her to feel a kind of shame.’
The collar definitely had its downside: it provoked shame in some, anxiety in others. On the upside, it also provoked its due share of consolation. In any case, he seldom took it off-let the chips fall where they may.
Albert at 6:30, he wrote in the calendar of his notebook. Why did he write this down? He’d had zero appointments these last weeks; maybe Albert at 6:30 was a small way to prepare for reality, for going home to his own mowing.
While Cynthia occupied the bathroom, he pondered his unease. Dooley and Lace, unfinished. Evelyn, Liam, Paddy, unfinished. Bella totally unfinished. The whole Barret business, unfinished. He despised the unfinished, and yet all of life was continually under construction and he was continually at odds with that plan.
He closed his eyes, breathed deep. Prayed.
She came steaming into the room from the shower.
‘We can’t go home, Timothy.’
She often spoke what he was timid even to think. ‘We’ll miss seeing Dooley off to school,’ he said.
‘He’s young; she’s old.’
‘Of course, we’d have him only one day before he takes off to Georgia, but we’ll see him at fall break for a week. Dooley, Sammy, Kenny, all the boys together, right next door.’
‘A week of my pizza and your hamburgers,’ she said.
‘Not to mention my barbecue and your fries.’
‘Ruinous, but lovely. I shall need this long rest to face the onslaught.’
‘Do you feel it’s fair to claim medical reasons?’
‘We’ve been here an eon,’ she said, ‘and owing to medical reasons, I’ve hardly left the premises.’
‹Dear Emma,
Not flying out of Dublin as scheduled. Medical reasons. Advise Puny no pick-up needed. Pls get open-end ticket deal.
As ever›
Thank heaven Walter didn’t answer his cell phone and he could leave a message. No Guess what, no You’ll never believe this, he was beyond that.
‘Walter, it’s Tim. We won’t meet you at the airport as planned, we’re going to take a few days to see the sights. If you need my apologies, you have them in spades. Peace and plenty and love to Katherine.’ He should feel guilty, but didn’t-they would laugh about this in their dotage.
He left a message canceling Albert, relieved to skip a chin-wag with Mrs. Malone.
‘Anna,’ he said, ‘what is Dublin’s finest hotel?’
Cynthia was in bed when he came back to the room, Pud trailing, no shoe.
‘An odd thing,’ she said. ‘For the first time, I feel like we’re on vacation.’